


Les Mis Drabbles

by MiyanaMistborn



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Genderfluid Jehan, Grantaire & Jean Prouvaire Friendship, Housemate BROTP, I want to live in a house like this, M/M, Ponine & Grantaire & Jehan Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-01-14 23:14:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1282303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiyanaMistborn/pseuds/MiyanaMistborn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just my modern AU headcanons from the characters of Les Miserables</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sock shenanigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Eponine winds everyone up

‘Prouvaire get your ass out of the shower or so help me I will burn all of your books!’

Eponine pounds on the door to the bathroom where a certain ginger poet has been showering for almost an hour and a half. She hears the water turn off and a startled squeak as the poet processes the threat that he has just been issued. She sidesteps neatly to the side as the sopping wet Jehan tears past her and into his room wearing only a towel and his long hair streaming out behind him, with all the grace of an elephant. She smirks as she hears the closing of his door before finally getting to wash all of the biro from her arm. Between R and Jehan’s efforts she looks like a walking scribble, covered in poetry and doodles from the two flatmates.

She walks downstairs 10 minutes later to find Taire stretched out on the sofa with his head in Jehan’s lap as they watch a rerun of Friends and pass a spliff between them. “Going to share?” she says with a smile on her face as she sits down in the armchair. Grantaire raises his head and smiles mischeviously at her, he resumes his earlier lounging position and pretends not to have heard, at least that is until a black sock lands on his face. He plucks it off his face and balls it up in his hand, passing the spliff to Jehan while he does so. Ponine’s eyes widen and she hops up from the armchair (wearing only one sock,) looking at Grantaire with equal parts of panic and wariness and he advances slowly towards her. Lunging forward with the offending sock still clutched in his outstretched hand, Grantaire chased Ponine around the moderately-sized living room with them both shrieking and jumping over Jehan. The ginger man has slipped from the sofa and was currently on the thickly carpeted floor and was holding his stomach as if to try and hold back the laughter that was filling the room at their antics. As a last resort Ponine dives behind the sofa and hopes that Grantaire can’t follow, her hopes are dashed as he quickly does. Jehan can’t see what happens next but can hear alot of shouting muffled by the cushions before Taire leaps over the back and lands neatly on the seat, followed by Ponine’s face, the disgruntled expression on her face is softened somewhat by the fact that the sock is currently masking half of it.


	2. Violins and skirts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Embarassing dancing

Jehan turned the speakers up louder as he pranced around the room to Lindsey Stirling’s song ‘Stars Align’ which meant that he missed the front door slamming closed behind a disgruntled Taire. The trains were all cancelled due to heavy rain which meant that he had called work and they had given him the day off, he juggled with his satchel, his tesco bag and the enormous bunch of flowers that he had bought Jehan on the way home. A mop of raven curls popped around the corner and into the living room with Grantaire following close behind, seeing Jehan hop onto the coffee table and try and re-enact some sort of riverdance became too much and he dissolved into child-like giggles and had to hold onto the wall for support. A particularly loud hoot of laughter drew the poet’s attention, he immediately blushed a red to match his hair and scurried to turn the speakers off before he looked down at his shoes and played with the sleeves of his oversized jumper. He only looked up when a pair of calloused hands guided him to the sofa. Taire’s voice was worried ‘Jehan? What’s wrong? Are you embarrassed?’ Jehan nods and looks up at Taire from under his eyelashes. R snorts and immediately leaps over to the speakers and turns them up even louder than Jehan had, strips off his t-shirt and wraps it around his waist like a skirt. He holds out his hand to the still furiously blushing man on the sofa, ‘Come on Jehan!’ before dragging him back to the coffee table and starting an impromptu can-can. Jehan’s face is filled with mischevious glee as he rushes to his room to grab two of the skirts he possesses. One is a deep purple peasant skirt which he passes to Grantaire, and the one he keeps for himself is a knee length swath of bright green. They link arms and can-can around the room as the song plays on repeat.


	3. Jehan's Badassery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware I suck at chapter titles

“...Courf? I think someone’s following us.”

 

Courfeyrac hadn’t heard Jehan ever speak this way, he didn’t sound worried or scared, he sounded almost determined, confident but with a hint of anger. He brought his lips to Jehan’s ear in a way that would seem loving but he was starting to feel a little scared.

 

“Are you sure? What do you think they want?”

 

He risked a quick glance behind them and saw that three menacing figures were indeed lurking along the path, shrouded in the shadows between streetlamps, he led Jehan round the corner, their arms still linked together. His breathing quickened slightly, he had no idea what to do. Courfeyrac looked into Jehan’s usually warm hazel eyes that had turned hard and steely, the love of his life gently extracted his freckled arm from Courf’s tanned one and gently pressed the flower that had been braided into his hair into Courfeyrac’s hand.

 

“I’m going to confront them, will you hold my flower sweetie?”

 

Courf could only gape at him as Jehan stopped in the middle of the street.

 

“Jehan!” He whispered, “What are you doing?!”

 

The ginger placed his hand gently on Courf’s cheek, “Trust me, I know what i’m doing” Jehan afforded him a small but confident smile before turning to the men that were steadily stalking closer. He walked forward a few steps and cleared his throat loudly.

 

“Gentlemen,” he asked with a sweep of his hand, indicating that he was speaking to them, “ May I ask why you were following us?”

The leader, a man with a cruel glint in his eyes pulled a knife from his coat pocket, “Give us your phones and wallets and we won’t have to hurt ya!” He shouted from thirty feet away, still slowly coming closer with his two cronies flanking him.

 

Jehan sighed a little and swept his braid from his shoulder so that it would rest against his back and wouldn’t get in his way before stepping forward a step and assuming a non-threatening stance. “We can’t do that i’m afraid, now will you please leave us alone to our night? We all can just walk away now before this gets ugly.”

 

The leader sneered, “We’ll just take them from you then, what the fuck is a little girly-boy and his queer boyfriend going to do about it?” He was less than ten feet away now and had puffed out his chest in order to look intimidating.

Jehan smiled, showing more teeth than was necessary, he stepped forward so he stood toe-to-toe with the leader, his cronies lurking just behind. “Just leave us alone.” He warned in a deep, calm voice.

 

The leader thrust forward with the knife, aiming for Jehan’s navel. Jehan immediately sprang into action, grabbing the wrist that held the knife and twisting sharply until he heard the clattering of the knife on the pavement and brought his forehead to swiftly meet the bridge of the leader’s nose with a loud crack. The leader yelled in surprise and pain, Jehan could hear Courf’s voice coming closer and calling out his name but he didn’t pay attention as he brought his foot up to push the leader’s knee backwards until he felt it give beneath his strength. The leader toppled, his balance disrupted by the pain and lay on the floor whining and holding his leg which was bent at an odd angle, his nose gushing blood from where it was most likely broken, a swift kick to his temple ensured that he wasn’t waking up for a while.

 

A sharp tug at his scalp meant that someone had grabbed his braid, punches rained on his torso and face and it became difficult to breathe, he twisted around, ignoring the protest from his scalp and brought a boot up into crony #1’s crotch, he dropped to floor gasping and wheezing while holding himself.

 

Hearing a scuffle close by he turned to see Courf rugby tackling crony#2 who looked as if he had tried to sneak up on Jehan from behind like his friend had, by the time Jehan had reached them they were just getting to their feet after they had both been sent sprawling by the tackle. Jehan grabbed crony#2 by his shaggy hair and yanked his face down while his knee rose to meet it, a grunt of pain later and crony #2 was dazed enough for them both to run from the scene. The whole fight was over in less than 2 minutes, with the three men in various states of distress in the middle of the street.

 

 

Courf hadn’t looked at his boyfriend the entire way back to Courf’s flat, he turned to face him now. Jehan was stood by the front door stil looking shy and sheepish, not the whirl of violence that had defeated three burly men with clinical precision.

 

Courf kept his voice curt and detached, “Are you okay?” Jehan nodded, “Good. Now what the hell was that?!” Confusion and anger could be heard in his voice, Jehan shied away his head bowed as if in shame. “You wanted to fight those three men? You could have been hurt! You could have...could have been killed.” Courf’s voice had risen in volume now broke on the last word.

 

Jehan slumped down against the front door until he was sitting in front of it, “I’m sorry.” He whispered, Courf could see tears on his face, he was shaking like a leaf. “I...I don’t know what came over me, they were going to hurt you and I...I... Oh god I hurt those people.” His voice was so quiet that he seemed to be whispering it to himself. Courf could not stay angry at the man in front of him and sat in front of Jehan gently as though he was scared of spooking him.

 

He reached out his hand which was still clenched around the lily that Jehan had asked him to keep safe for him, he tucked the flower behind Jehan’s ear and reached up to wipe the tears from his face. “You’re right,” he spoke softly “they would have hurt us, i’m sorry I shouted. You saved us.” Courfeyrac leaned down to place a chaste kiss on Jehan’s forehead and stroked his hair soothingly


End file.
